


Time to Take Rover to the Groomer

by 3988Akasha, ElDiablito_SF



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Crack, Hair, Haircuts, Hairvolution, Hairvolution - AU, M/M, Multi, Other, Things Making Perfect Sense, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:50:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3988Akasha/pseuds/3988Akasha, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where all the characters of Revolution cohabitate peacefully in a charming community, drinking gopher juice, and making moon sacrifices: a growing menace threatens to take over their lives, one head at a time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time to Take Rover to the Groomer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Timid_Timbuktu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timid_Timbuktu/gifts).



> The Hairvolution - it's a thing, okay. It's a serious thing. 
> 
> Public Service Announcement: At least half of the authors were drinking during the production of this fic.
> 
> PSA, Subsection 2: No actual goats or other animals were harmed in the making of this fic.
> 
>  
> 
> **THE HAIRVOLUTION WILL CONTINUE UNTIL OUR HAIRMANDS ARE MET!**

“Miles, I can’t come to Philly with you. Not now. Your hair looks ridiculous,” Ben said, looking at Miles with distaste. 

“I’m being a rebel, Ben. I DO WHAT I WANT!”

“Yes, well, you’re doing it wrong.”

Miles scowled and petted his hair as though it were a live thing and in pain. According to Ben, it might as well have been. He tried pouting, to no avail. Ben shook his own perfectly styled coif in disapproval.

“Dammit, Ben! I’m a grown ass woman!”

“What?”

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“Miles, no! Can’t you see what’s going on?”

“Yeah, me not giving a fuck about you oppressing me and my lifestyle choices!”

“No, Miles, no! It’s not you talking! IT’S THE HAIR!”

“So what? This is some sort of hairtervention?”

“Your own husband can’t even look at you. The sight of your hair makes him vomit the leftovers from _The Exorcist_ and you’re wondering if this is an intervention? It’s so much more than that. This is an attempt to save you from the bad place. Come back, Miles.”

“Bass is always overly dramatic, Ben. You know how he is.”

“When Charlie can french braid your hair, it’s time to just say no.”

“Grooming is an age old, anthropologically acknowledged, primate behavior, and I’m not going to deny my progeny the opportunity to bond with me.”

“Your what?”

“Shit. What? Nothing.”

“Have you been _reading_?”

Miles looked shifty. “What? I read.”

Ben still didn’t look as though he believed him, but didn’t comment. “Wait, if grooming is a normal primate behavior, and you’re a primate...and as you claim you _read_ why have you not actually done the ‘grooming’ thing?”

Miles opened and closed his mouth a bit uselessly...like a fish, but with hair. A hirsute fish. Whatever, it was close to a primate, or something. Evolution - science - he’d never been good with those. 

“Your husband has a stockpile of rocket-launchers - you’d think he could at least find you some hair product and a barber!” Ben did not look about to relent.

“Ben, metrosexual is not a _thing_ anymore! Let me be my own woman! _Man_... I mean man!”

“Are you planning on donating your beautiful tresses to Locks of Love or something? Because I’m pretty sure that is also no longer a _thing_!”

“I can make it a _thing_ , Ben! I’m Miles FUCKING Matheson. I’m one fierce bitch, bitch!”

“Your hair can’t cure cancer, Miles. It just can’t. And if it could, then fine you could keep it. But now, no. Just no. Besides, no self-respecting woman would have that hair either. It looks like a mullet threw up another mullet!”

“I’ll make mullets a thing too, Ben. Business up front, party in the back! And if it’s _two_ mullets, then it’s a double party. You’re just jealous of my boogie!”

“Miles, that’s a party in the front _and_ a party in the back, but like one of them has a curtain - to block the bad party. It’s a bad party. No one needs that. NO ONE!”

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Bass walked in, smelling suspiciously of skunk. “You two are harshing my buzz.”

“Bass, are you smoking skunks again?” Miles asked tiredly. “I thought we’d discussed this. It’s gross and I can’t be near you when you do this. Also, you smell.”

“Goddammit, Miles, this is _purple gorilla_! The finest shit. And, besides, how else am I supposed to forget that my husband has turned into a Yeti? We’re fresh out of Ambien!”

Ben mouthed THANK YOU at Bass from across the room.

“I’m hardly a Yeti, Bass. I can’t get my chest and back hair to grow that much. At best, I’m an ill proportioned Hobbit. Sad Hobbit. And I have to wear shoes, you know how my feet get.”

“Stop trying to distract me with talk about your sexy feet!”

“You love my sexy feet. My _hairy_ sexy feet.”

“Bass, if you wanna hold him down for me, I’ll totally take a razor to that shit,” Ben offered, genially. It was times likes these that Bass loved his brother-in-law doubleplus much.

“I will gut you! I will gut you all! My locks of love are glorious and you should pay homage to them. They are not the sacrificial lamb! We have goats for that!”

“Fucking hell, Miles, the goats are for cheese!”

“Then what the fuck does Jeremy sacrifice on the full moon when he wears those sexy sky clothes of his?”

“Sexy sky clothes?” Ben asked, not sure he wanted to know.

“He means naked. Buck naked. Sexy and naked. But, it’s sky clothes because he’s killing some unknown quadruped.”

“That makes sense,” Ben said with a nod.

“Sometimes it’s pigeons,” Bass added, by way of further explanation. “Fucking city chickens,” he added with a shudder. 

“We sacrifice those, too. Odd months.”

In the middle of this discussion, the door opened again and Nora tumbled in, laden with a suspicious looking sack.

“Speak of the devil!” Bass grinned slowly. “Did you get fresh pigeons for Jeremy?”

“Yeah,” Nora sighed and wiped sweat off her glistening brow. “And a sturgeon.” She cast a look around the room, taking in everyone’s discombobulated appearance, her eyes finally fixing on Miles. “Damn, boy. You’re gonna have to start wearing that shit in a bun, like I do, soon.”

“Ha!” Ben erupted with glee. “Even your ex-girlfriend thinks you look dumb!”

Miles petted his hair, eyes sad. “It’s okay, sweetheart, they just don’t understand. Precious, I know you’re the only one who loves me.”

“I’m cutting it off right now,” Nora stepped forward, unsheathing her machete.

“Back off, Delilah! You’re just jealous my precious is getting longer and more lustrous than yours!”

“She might actually mean your head, to be fair,” Bass smiled through squinted eyes again, contemplating whether this would be a desirable outcome.

“Hey, family!” Rachel walked in carrying a large vessel on her shoulder. “Who wants freshly squeezed gopher juice?”

“Mmmm, my favorite!” Miles’ eyes sparkled. “I mean, after whiskey. And other alcohol. Rachel, you’re the best.” 

“It’s true, I’m hot and fabulous,” Rachel nodded in accord, her shiny locks fluttering like an old 1980s VO5 Hot Oil commercial, and started filling glasses with the tasty post-apocalyptic beverage.

Ben reached for a glass as well, but the brush of Rachel’s hand on his forearm made him wait a few moments before bringing it to his lips. He was distracted by the sight of her blond hair; Rachel had always given good hair. Miles drank his fill and slammed the empty drink down.

“That is some delicious shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii....t.” He fell over, unconscious.

“You poisoned him?” Bass gave Rachel a look of indignation.

“It’s just valerian root extract. Extra concentrated, because he’s worth it.” Rachel folded her arms and beamed at Miles’ prone form. “Well? What’s everyone waiting for? Let’s go, Team Haircut!”

Bass nodded. “I’ve been saving my Ch-ch-ch-CHIA Pet trimmer for desperate times.”

Everyone stared at him blankly.

“He’s calling it his precious, that used to be a name for something far more...bacon flavored, you know _meaty_. It has to die.”

“No power,” Ben said.

“It’s symbolic, Ben. Like the goats Jeremy pretends to sacrifice.” Bass reached into his _other_ pocket. “The pruning shears are for the haircut.”

“Ah, that’s much better,” Nora said as she took them out of Bass’ hands.

“Hey!”

“ _I’m_ Delilah, I get the honors!”

They all nodded because it was the most sensible thing. They watched as Nora grasped a large mass of the hydra-like strands and severed them from their roots, a howling whine echoing through the room. They stared, enraptured, as Nora finished her divinely appointed task. 

“It is finished,” Bass said once Nora handed him the shears. He put them back into his pocket for the next time he was burdened with terrible purpose. It was hard work being President.


End file.
